


Bed Monster

by HoloXam



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Insomnia, Kaiju, Nightmares, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 16:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16267646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoloXam/pseuds/HoloXam
Summary: It's 4 am and Newt can't sleep.





	Bed Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble purge 2018 continues, please enjoy.
> 
> Warnings for non-graphic but would-be-gory-if-described nightmare, I guess?

It's 4 am and Newt can't sleep. Again.  
He's too tired to do anything else, crushingly, bone numbingly tired, so tired, in fact, that he managed to doze off on his feet for _just_ a second, and in the awakening jolt sloshed coffee all over... _Everything._  
But, as soon as he hit the sack, his mind turned _on._  
It's not even particularly interesting thoughts keeping him from sweet, sweet oblivion.

 _We're all gonna die,_ he thinks, levelly. That's pretty much the deal: giant monsters crawling ashore like the final step of a classic illustration of evolution, ready to claim their spot as the top and the  _end_ of the food chain. So there's that, we're all gonna die.  
He contemplates getting drunk, but booze has long since ceased to be any kind of comfort, with the arrival of the anxiety inducing hangovers of the late 20s going on early 30s. _Jesus Fuck, when did he get this old?_  
Harder substances are even more out of the question.  
He is, it would seem, way too smart to self-medicate. Goddammit. The metal ceiling stares him down. He imagines it cracking, chunks of lead-enforced steel trapping him on the bed, the face of a Category V kaiju appearing, getting real up and close, studying him, mockingly mirroring his own work. Which would be victorious, fear or fascination? He really can't say.

He imagines a kaiju donning giant silicone gloves and cutting him open on an operating table with the tiniest of scalpels in its giant claws while he's still alert, a morbid fascination seizing him, his own guts spilling out of the freakishly precise cut, and it's intelligent, it knows what it's doing, and Newt's not dead, _how is Newt not dead, and why,_ and he's seeing a kaiju real up and close, and it's fantastic as much as it is plain horrifying, and, _dude—_

— Newt jolts awake, still crucified on his _bed_ and not on an aluminum table, and it's still 2022, the ceiling is still in place, and it's still fucking _hopeless_ because one of these days that ceiling is gonna cave in, and they'll all be killed in the rubble, being crushed, or drowned, or poisoned by the toxic spill. He just hopes he will have the luck to see the monster that's killing him, look it in the face and say, _I get it, dude, I feel you. Fucking humanity, right?_


End file.
